


in the silence (i heard you calling out)

by chocolatecarstairs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, and, arya discovers her sexuality, arya is horny on main, forge!sex, gendry has STAMINA y'all, gendry is horny on main, mastrubation, she doesn't care who knows it, this is basically pure smut, this is like 96 percent smut 4 percent feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatecarstairs/pseuds/chocolatecarstairs
Summary: “You’re a princess, Arya. Bastards don’t bed princesses, they serve them.”Arya smiled a wolfish grin, the one she wore when she knew she’d won whatever argument she and Gendry were having. “You say you must serve your princess?” She pulled the tunic over her head, leaving herself bare to him. “Then serve.”





	in the silence (i heard you calling out)

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as pure smut and then somehow some feelings got mixed into it? i'm not usually so emotional so excuse the parts where this gets sappy. 
> 
> title from 'the truth is a cave' by the oh hellos

She knew he hated it when she sat on his anvil.

Gendry had told her so many times. There were nights where she’d come into the forge after he’d skipped dinner, bringing along two bowls of stew and bread to share. She’d pester him to take a break and eat with her until he gave in and she’d carelessly move whatever he’d been working on from the anvil to a workbench and hoist herself to sit atop the anvil instead.

And Gendry hated it.

He’d told her he didn’t want her to get her clothes dirty. He’d told her that he didn’t like when she moved his work so she could have a place to sit. He’d told her that sitting on an anvil, supping on stew with a bastard in his forge was no place for a lady. None of it had mattered, he’d never been able to lie to her anyway.

But Gendry couldn’t tell her the true reason why he hated her sitting on his anvil. He couldn’t tell her that watching her perched up there, as he stood tucked between her legs so he could hear her over the sounds of the men outside drinking and singing, made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t tell her that he wanted nothing more than to bend down and capture her mouth with his. He couldn’t tell her that, when she sat atop his anvil, he wanted to lay her back and undress her. Pound into her harder than he pounded his swords and breastplates all day. Feel her around him, as she sat atop the anvil that was the perfect height to have their hips meet.

So, now, he stood perfectly still. He was positioned in between her legs, as he usually was on the nights she visited him in the forge, but there was something unusual about the way that she looked at him. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there or when she’d come in. He couldn’t remember what he’d been working on or when she’d sat down. He felt as though he’d just appeared there, in between her legs, as she slowly reached out to him. Her hands were on his chest. She’d touched him plenty of times since he’d known her, but she’d never touched him like _this_ before. Usually, when she touched his chest, she was shoving him or punching him, but now her hands were soft, gentle, and she was trembling ever so slightly. He dared not speak, for he thought that whatever he said would break whatever spell they were under as her hands slowly trailed down his chest to the hard planes of his stomach. He felt his blood rush south with her hands as her fingertips ghosted over his navel, going lower still. She hesitated for a fraction of a second at the waistband of his breeches, but her face hardened with steely resolve and, slowly, she began untying the laces holding them up.

As she finally undid the knot and tugged his breeches down, leaving him in nothing but his smallclothes, Gendry’s head finally caught up with what was happening. “Arya, we need to stop.”

He pulled away, even as his cock screamed at him in protest, and looked down as she huffed. “Why?”

He could barely look her in the eye. He was in nothing but his thin small clothes, which made it painfully obvious that he’d been enjoying what they’d been doing before. And, _seven hells_ , how had he not noticed that she was wearing nothing but a tunic, reaching halfway down her thighs. His cock and the small part of his brain that liked to fantasize about Arya in _nothing at all_ were screaming now, but his honor won out over them. “You’re a princess. Your brother is King in the North and I can’t ruin you.”

Arya laughed, a soft breathy laugh he’d never heard from her before. And when she spoke her voice was so sure, so soft, so sweet. “Nothing you do could ever ruin me, Gendry.”

His resolve was crumbling, but Gendry Waters would never give up without a fight. “You’re a princess, Arya. Bastards don’t bed princesses, they serve them.”

Arya smiled a wolfish grin, the one she wore when she knew she’d won whatever argument she and Gendry were having. “You say you must serve your princess?” She pulled the tunic over her head, leaving herself bare to him. _“Then serve.”_

She practically growled the last line and Gendry could almost hear the will in him dying. He took one step forward, back to where he belonged, _back to her_ . And now _his_ hands were on _her_ chest. And _his_ mouth was on _her_ mouth. And instead of spreading her legs far enough apart that her thighs barely brushed his hips, she wrapped them around his waist and pulled him closer, closer, _closer_ to her.

Gendry’s mind was filled with nothing but Arya. _His Arya._ His Arya pulling his small clothes down his legs. His Arya slowly wrapping her small hands around his cock, smiling when she figured out how to move to make him groan into her neck. His Arya, moaning his name as he rubbed his fingers along her slit and moaning louder still when he found the small part of her, there between her legs, that was so sensitive to his touch she could not even form a coherent thought as his fingers circled it. All that escaped her lips were small _oh, oh, oh’s_ as his fingers moved against her.

He dipped a finger inside of her then, and _gods_ , she was so tight around even his pointer finger that he had no clue how his cock would ever fit inside of her. But she was wet, so wet, and he wanted to be inside of her so badly it _hurt_.

“Gendry,” She moaned as she pressed her lips against his collarbone, for someone who was usually so loud and outspoken, she spoke incredibly quietly as he pleasured her. She grabbed his other hand and moved it just above her entrance, pressing his fingers against herself as he had earlier. “Yes, there! Keep going!”

He did not need to be told twice. He moved one finger in and out of her, curling it up to brush against her walls as his other finger massaged her clit. He didn’t know how long he kept at it because the sound of her softly moaning his name and her small sighs when he found just the right spot inside her were enough to make him lose all sense of reality. Eventually, though, something in her changed. Her eyes shot open and her head fell back. “I-I-I oh, Gods, Gendry it’s to-too much I-I need-”

She didn’t get the chance to finish telling him as his finger found that spot inside her again and her eyes shut and she nearly _howled_ as her head fell against his chest, her hands gripping his biceps. Her entire body shuddered against him, and he felt her release dripping onto his hands as he continued moving his finger in and out, in and out, still rubbing her clit in time with the rhythm.

She held onto his arms for a long time as her shuddering continued. And only when she finally stopped and opened her eyes did he see the tears welling there. “Stop, Gendry, please it’s too much. I’m feeling too much, _please_.”

He pulled away instantly, staring down at his hands, covered in _her_ , in a sort of fascinated horror. She’d been so happy and feeling so much pleasure, but somewhere along the way, he must have done something wrong. He wanted to punch the wall at the thought of something hurting her, and the fact that it was him- his white-hot shame made him turn away from her. “I’m so sorry, Arya. Oh, Gods, I _never_ meant to hurt you.”

Then she was laughing, breathlessly. “You didn’t hurt me, you big stupid.”

“I didn’t? But you were begging me to stop, you were crying.” Gendry turned back to face her, confusion written clearly all over his face.

She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him closer and kissing him softly. As she pulled away she pressed her forehead to his.“It was so much _feeling_ , you bull. I couldn’t focus on any one thing because you were still touching me and whatever _that_ was, it wasn’t stopping if you kept at it. I was overwhelmed is all.”

He kissed her then. Slowly at first, but Arya had never liked to do things slowly. Before he knew it, she was sucking on his tongue in her mouth and her hands were around his cock, guiding him towards her entrance, trying to push him into her.

“You’re sure?” He asked, his mouth never leaving hers. He just needed her to reassure him. That he wasn’t ruining her. That their friendship would still be there after whatever this was.

He could practically feel her roll her eyes. “Yes, now take me.”

And then he was inside her and she was so tight that for a moment he couldn’t move and finally, _finally_ , he started to pull back ever so slowly and the feeling of her clenching around him was almost too much-

Gendry woke up when she punched him in the gut in her sleep.

He groaned softly at the feeling of her fist hitting his stomach. Or at the fact that his cock was so hard, it hurt. Or at the fact that he’d just gotten to the best part of his dream when he’d been woken by her fist.

Possibly at all three.

He felt dirty and guilty like he was in desperate need of a bath and a good scolding. Dreaming about _bedding_ Arya Stark as she lay tucked into his arms at night. He wasn’t sure when they’d started sleeping so close to each other. He just knew that one night he’d gone to sleep barely touching her and the next she’d curled herself so tightly against him that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

Things had only escalated from there. On the days he woke up hard and she was still asleep, he’d slip out of bed and pace around the room, thinking of things like swimming in cold rivers and the feeling his groin got after spending an entire day in the saddle, until his cock went flaccid and he was finally able to lay back in bed with her. On the days she woke before him, he flushed the deepest red he thought anyone had ever seen. There was not a chance she didn’t know. The way they slept now- facing each other with one of her legs tucked between his, her cheek resting against his chest, and her stomach pressed right against _him_ \- she’d feel his arousal the second she awoke. He’d wake up to see her eyes open, staring at nothing as she rubbed lazy patterns into his bare chest with her pointer finger, lost in thought, and he’d try to think of cold rivers and being saddle sore. Truly, he did. But the feeling of her pressed against him, touching him so familiarly, was overpowering and it was all he could do sometimes not to let his mind wander to other ways Arya could touch him. The worst days, though, were when he’d wake and she’d already be gone. The bed would still be warm where she’d been sleeping and he couldn’t find an excuse not to let his mind wander to his lecherous thoughts. And, before he could think better of it, he’d take himself in his hand and touch himself to the thought of her, naked in his furs.

Tonight, though, it was too hot for furs and he could see the curve of her bottom in the dim moonlight filtering through the little window of their room. He could feel her breasts pressed against him, the thin material of the tunic she wore to sleep, _his tunic_ , did nothing to mask the feeling of them on him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get the image of Arya naked and coming undone on his hands out of his mind. 

He lay there for what felt like hours trying to calm his thoughts as well as his erection, but it was no use. He’d awoken the last six nights from similar dreams, ones where he was giving her a lord’s kiss or she was writhing in pleasure beneath him. Every night he’d woken painfully hard, save the night he’d awoken wet and sticky in his small clothes and he’d known he’d cried out in his sleep, blushing furiously and thanking every god, old and new, that Arya was still sound asleep next to him. After a week of using his sheer force of will to force himself to relax enough to fall back to sleep, he’d had enough. He needed release. He had nowhere to go, and Arya was asleep next to him. He disentangled himself from her and rolled over onto his back, just far enough away that he wasn’t touching her. She groaned softly in her sleep, but otherwise, she did not stir.

 _I can be quick_ , Gendry thought. _Quick and quiet and she’ll never know._

He looked over at her, the tunic she wore was much too large for her and had fallen away from her shoulder, leaving her collarbone and a bit of her cleavage exposed. Any objection he felt disappeared at that sight

 _Quick and quiet,_ he reminded himself as he reached his hand into his small clothes and wrapped it around his cock.

 

……..

 

Arya heard someone calling her name.

It was soft and distant at first, as she slowly faded into consciousness. She didn’t even recognize the voice until she opened her eyes and took in the scene in front of her. Gendry had moved away from her and was lying on his back, his eyes closed and his face screwed up almost as if he was in pain or thinking. But he wasn’t crying out, he was moaning. Quietly, softly. _Arya, Arya, Arya._

It took her a moment to realize what he was doing, but when she looked down and saw his hand in his small clothes, moving up and down, she flushed a deep red color and closed her eyes. She knew he would be mortified if he’d known she had caught him. She knew of course that most boys, even some men, took themselves in their hand when they needed to, she’d even seen some do it on the Kingsroad. But this was different. _This was Gendry._ She’d never seen him touch himself like that, never even truly let herself consider if he did or wanted to. Though she realized now, he had been the one to explain it all to her, so he must have been doing it the whole time.

She doesn’t remember how old she’d been when she’d first asked. Their days with Yoren on the Kingsroad had blurred together in her memory, but she remembers asking. It was late at night, and neither she nor Gendry could sleep. They’d been laying on the ground next to each other and Arya had rolled to face away from him. She’d seen one of the recruits, a boy of about seven and ten, with his cock out rubbing himself up and down. It confused her, his face looked pained, but he was doing it to himself. Why would he be touching himself like that if it hurt? She turned to Gendry and tugged on his sleeve so he’d face her. 

“Why is that boy doing that to himself?” She’d asked.

He looked over her shoulder and took in the scene, flushing like a maiden. “It’s nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it is. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be blushing like a maid.”

Gendry had just grumbled and rolled back over. “Go to sleep, Arry, and don’t watch him do that.”

She had huffed and prodded for a few more minutes, but it became apparent that he wouldn’t be giving her any answers that night. Still, in the days that followed, she’d noticed more and more of the boys- and even quite of few of the men- on their way to the Wall touching themselves. A few days later, as they were making camp one night after a long day of walking, Arya brought it up to Gendry once more.

“I saw the boy touching himself again,” she started casually, walking next to him as he collected water from a stream a little ways away from their camp. “I watched him this time since you wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. Why does touch himself so often? And what was that thing that happened at the end? He had to clean himself off afterward, it looked unpleasant.”

Gendry nearly fell into the stream. “I told you not to watch him do that. It’s not proper for a lady to see things like that and I don’t think he’d like to be watched.”

Arya shrugged. “Well, if he’s gonna do it out in the open like that, I’ll watch him as much as I please. Besides, he’s not the only one. I’ve seen at least half the others do it at this point. Hells, last night even Lommy had his hand down his-”

“Arya!” Gendry groaned, somehow growing even redder. “Please, stop telling me about it.”

“I won’t,” she’d argued. “Not until you tell me why they’re doing it.”

Gendry groaned and set down the buckets they used to collect the water. “Fine, but you have to promise not to ask me about it again.”

“No.”

“Arya,” Gendry groaned.

“I want to know these things, Gendry,” she’d reasoned. “It’s not like I can ask anyone else. Yoren would never tell me and everyone else expects me to already know, seeing as they think I’m a boy.”

“Fine,” Gendry grumbled, picking up the pails and collecting more water. “I’ll tell you.”

Arya looked at him as if to say _go on_.

“It's just when, well, when a man, or a boy, I guess, he gets,” he paused, his face screwing up as he searched for the right words. “When they want a woman, their cock, it, uhm, it gets hard and to touch it-it feels good, and, if they’re alone, then they, well, they have to do the touching themselves.”

“Who else would do it for them?” Arya asked.

He was still stumbling through words as he explained to her. “Well, if there’s a girl around, it’s much better if she does, well,” he flushed and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. “It feels nicer if a girl does it. They have softer hands, smaller too, which feels nicer, and sometimes they’ll put their mouths on it, and it just feels better. Okay?”

Arya looked down at her own hands as Gendry returned his attention to collecting water from the stream. Her hands were small, much smaller than Gendry’s. Though they were calloused from practicing with Needle she knew they weren’t as rough as his. She couldn’t imagine wanting his cock in her mouth, but she supposed she wouldn’t mind putting her hands on it. And if it felt nicer when a girl did it, well she was a girl and Gendry had been keeping her secret for a long time. He’d never asked her for anything in return and he was carrying all the buckets of water to and from camp, not making her do any work. He never made her do any work or even asked her to do anything really. She could do something for him, just this once.

“I could do it for you, then,” she said. “If it feels nicer when a girl does it. I don’t think my hands are very soft, but they’re small and softer than yours.”

Gendry did fall into the stream at that. He was sat on his ass in the water, glaring up at her. “Seven hells, Arya, no! I don’t-”

She hadn’t meant to make him angry, she’d only wanted to do something nice for a change. But now Gendry was yelling at her and she was getting angry with him. And somewhere behind the anger, there was shame and humiliation, though she didn’t quite understand why. “Fine then, touch your own bloody cock at night.”

She’d turned and grabbed the two buckets of water meant for her and stomped back to camp, leaving Gendry sitting in the stream wondering what in the seven hells had just happened.

They had never spoken about it again and she’d eventually learned to ignore what the men she traveled with were doing at night. It hadn’t been until Harrenhall that she had even thought about it again. She hadn’t seen Gendry since they’d arrived. He’d been sent to work in the smithy and she’d been forced to run messages back and forth across the castle and grounds all day. Finally, after some time, Weese had sent her to the smithy to fetch a sword and she’d seen him.

He’d been shirtless then, and he pounded the steel he was working on over and over with a kind of rhythm that she knew she could never replicate. _He’s strong_ , she had thought. After seeing him then, she’d made a point to seek him out during the little free time she had. After Weese’s death, she saw much more of Gendry. Sometimes she’d even be able to sit in the forge and watch him work. One afternoon, when she and Gendry had been alone in the hot forge, he’d taken a sword from the wall and begun swinging it, as if he were fighting.

He wasn’t very good, and she’d been sure to correct his form, but the image of Gendry shirtless swinging a sword around in the red light of the fires would not leave her mind. That night, as she’d laid in her little bed, away from the others, she’d felt a fluttering between her legs that she’d never felt before. It almost tickled. She tried pressing her legs together to make it stop, and when that didn’t work she’d tried to ignore it and go to sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she’d see Gendry swinging that stupid sword around and the feeling would only get worse. Finally, she thought of her nights on the Kingsroad and all the boys she’d seen touching themselves. Could girls do that, too?

She’d tentatively reached her hand down into her pants and cupped it over herself, gasping at the feeling. She’d moved her hand up and down like she’d seen the boys doing on the Kingsroad, except her hand was flat against herself. After a while, it had helped calm the feeling.

She’d gotten better at it over time. After they’d left Harrenhall and been with the Brotherhood, she’d spent her baths at Acorn Hall, or really anytime she had the opportunity, to learn how to use her fingers to make herself feel good. It didn’t always work, she was unpracticed and it took a while to do it right and she didn’t always have enough time. Twice, a handmaid had walked in on Arya with her hand between her legs. It didn’t deter her from trying again later, though. Whenever she’d have some time alone, she would let her hand drift down and pretend her fingers were Gendry’s, picturing Gendry with his sword, Gendry on top of her, Gendry’s face as he stood before her, her hands wrapped around his cock like she’d offered so many moons ago on the Kingsroad.

She had never once felt ashamed, but she had also never thought that Gendry would touch himself to those same thoughts. And now, lying next to him as he did, she couldn’t help the curiosity that bubbled up inside of her or the fluttering in her stomach that spread all the way down to her navel and in between her legs.

She opened her eyes and watched Gendry now. He’d pushed his small clothes down some, and she could see where liquid beaded at the very tip of his cock. His breathing was labored, coming out in small puffs as he stroked himself, up and down, up and down. Before she realized what she was doing, Arya reached out and laid her hand on his arm. 

His eyes shot open and his movements stilled. He looked at her, eyes wide before he rubbed at them with the heels of his hands. As if _that_ would make what was happening disappear.

“Arya, what-” he began, shaking his head. “It isn’t what it looks like.’’

She smirked, suddenly filled with a confidence that wasn’t there before. “Oh, so you weren’t just touching your cock while thinking about me?”

She had him. She could tell by the flush that crept onto his cheeks, his neck, his chest. She rested a hand on his stomach, taking a moment to feel his muscles rippling beneath her fingers. _He’s still so strong._

He barely breathed. “I-” 

She didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. She moved her hand down lower and lower and his voice died in his throat. “What were you imagining?”

Gendry opened his mouth but no words came out. Arya stopped her movements and looked up at him expectantly. “Well?”

“I had a dream,” he began and Arya began to move her hand as he spoke, lower and lower until she wrapped it around the base of his cock and his breath hitched.

“A dream,” she teased as she began to move her hand, ever so lightly. She wanted- no needed- him to finish telling her. “What happened in this dream.”

He looked down to where she was touching him, his breathing shallow. “W-we were in the forge. You were sitting atop the anvil and y-you,” He stuttered as she ran her thumb over his tip, feeling the liquid that had beaded out and begun to drip slowly down his shaft. “You were sitting on my anvil like you always do.”

“You hate it when I do that.” Arya laughed, breathlessly.

Gendry closed his eyes and bit his lip, but when he spoke he opened them and looked at her. “I don’t, not really. It’s just-” she moved her fingers lower on him and he stopped for a moment. “It’s just that when you’re sitting there so-s-so close, I can’t help but think of…”

Arya shifted so she was propped up on her elbow, leaning over Gendry as her hand twisted lightly, up and down, over his cock. She’d never seen him like this, his mouth hanging slightly open, his face flushed and sweaty, the black of his eyes so wide she could barely see the thin ring of blue surrounding them. He looked at her hungrily, like he wanted to devour her and savour every last bit. She bit her bottom lip, and he groaned at the sight of it. “Think of what?”

“You,” he admitted. “Touching me like this. Touching yourself sometimes. Me touching you. Kissing you on your mouth, on your chest, and on your,” his words drifted off for a moment. “What it’d feel like to be inside of you, hearing you gasp my name as I take you in my forge. It’s always you, all of you.”

Arya couldn’t help it, she leaned down and kissed him, then, her hand still moving on his cock. His hands came up and cupped her face and she gasped as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. She liked it though. _Oh_ , she liked it so much she never wanted it to end, but she had to tell him. Had to let him know. 

“I think about you, too.” She whispered against his lips. “All of you.”

Her hand tightened ever so lightly around him as if to prove her point, and then his hand was on top of hers, guiding her movements, showing her how he liked to be touched. She watched his hand over hers, but when she looked at him up his eyes were closed and he was panting and she thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Then. “Stop, Arya, stop.”

Her hand stilled almost instantly under his. She realized she was likely blushing, though she didn’t want to be. She looked up at him, eyes wide and her voice was little more than a whisper when she spoke. “Did I do something wrong?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment. And then he chuckled. “Gods, no, Arry. You were doing everything right.”

“If I was doing everything right, why did you make me stop?”

Now it was his turn to blush. “I just thought that if you were thinking about me too that maybe you would want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Nevermind, Arya,” Gendry grumbled.

“No, Gendry,” Arya rolled her eyes. “Tell me.”

He rubbed his hands over his face before he answered. “If you finish me like that, then I won’t be able to be inside you.”

 _Oh_ . “Oh.” Arya felt herself flush even harder. She’d had her hands on him just now, she’d moved his smallclothes further down his legs and seen the entire length of him, her nose scrunched involuntarily. _Gods, would he even fit?_

“I knew it was stupid,” Gendry rolled over to face away from her. “Just go back to sleep, Arya.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Arya huffed and pulled his arm forcing him to lay on his back and look up at her. “I don’t want to go back to sleep.”

“Well, too bad,” Gendry said sounding more annoyed now than anything. Somehow, annoying Gendry made Arya even more eager. “I’m not stayin’ awake with you.”

He closed his eyes and made to fall back to sleep, but Arya knew what she wanted and if she hadn’t been ashamed to be caught touching herself and moaning his name by a handmaiden, then she had no reason to be ashamed of wanting him to touch her. “If you don’t stay awake, who will I have to fuck me?”

His eyes shot open. “What?”

“I could just touch myself,” Arya ignored him, teasing him was becoming much too amusing. “It has always felt nice when I’ve done it before. Though, I think having your cock inside me would feel much nicer than my fingers.”

Gendry was watching her now, his mouth parted slightly in shock, or arousal, or both. Arya couldn’t be sure. She rested her chin atop her hands on his chest and continued on. “I have wondered what your cock would feel like before. What it looked like. I’d really only ever seen it when you were pissing on the Kingsroad. I never would have known then that it leans ever so slightly to the left.”

“Arya,” Gendry groaned. 

She was never one to turn back once she’d made up her mind, though. So without a second thought, she straddled Gendry’s lap, feeling his erection against her arse, and looked down at him. “Are you finally going to fuck me or not, Gendry?”

She could tell he was conflicted. He’d told her he wanted this just moments before. But Arya knew Gendry was a man of honor. He might not be as rigid in his code as her lord father or half-brother had been, but he would hesitate to do anything he believed would dishonor her. 

“Arya,” He groaned as she moved her hips against his. “I can’t ruin you. You’re a princess and one day you’ll marry a prince and you’ll have to be-”

“Oh shut up, you big stupid bull,” Arya rolled her eyes. “I won’t be marrying a prince or warming his bed at night. I don’t want a prince. I want you, here in my furs. I do plan to have my way with you if you’ll let me.”

Gendry’s eyes went dark and his tongue moved ever so slowly along his bottom lip. Arya nearly moaned at the sight.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Gods, yes.”

And with that, he flipped them over, so Arya was now laying beneath him, and began to kiss her so hungrily, so passionately, so hard that she thought he might actually consume her. She’d never kissed anyone before him, but she couldn’t imagine this was what it was like every time. No, Gendry was special.

His mouth moved from hers and he began sucking gently on her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. His lips only relenting for a moment so he could pull the tunic she wore over her head. He took her in for a moment, her chest completely bared to him before his mouth returned to her neck. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging roughly whenever his hot, open mouth landed on a particularly sensitive spot. When his mouth found one of her nipples she groaned and tugged his hair so hard she thought she might rip it straight from his head. Gendry moaned in pleasure at the feeling, and Arya smirked with the new knowledge that he liked to have his hair pulled.

He took her other nipple in his mouth, and she could feel him smile against it as she tugged his hair once again. Then, he moved on further down her body, kissing his way down past her navel to the very top of her small clothes.

He paused to look up at her, his eyes soft and she growled in response, urging him on. It briefly crossed her mind that in this way, they were perfect together. Gendry could be rough, but he would be gentle and hold himself back when it came to her. Arya had none of his patience and would not listen to his half-hearted excuses. Theirs was a push-and-pull that had always just _worked_. Now, as he slowly pulled her smallclothes down her legs and threw them somewhere behind him, it was working in an entirely different way.

Gendry’s hands slid slowly up her legs, stopping at her knees to gently push her legs wider. He looked on her cunt in near awe, and when he looked up at her and saw her biting her lip, he groaned. “Fucking beautiful.”

Arya had never felt beautiful before. She’d spent years being told by her sister, whom everyone agreed was near ethereal in her beauty, that she was no such thing. Her face was too long, her features too horselike for Arya to be considered beautiful. But when Gendry looked at her like that, she couldn’t help but believe him.

She wanted him to tell her again, but his mouth was on her cunt before she could say it and then every thought she had ever had escaped her except for him. His tongue, his breath, his fingers. _Gendry, Gendry, Gendry,_ her mind chanted.

His tongue was on her, pressing into the sensitive spot just above her opening. Every movement of his tongue made her writhe in pleasure. Her hands were in his hair, pulling impossibly hard and he hummed in satisfaction against her.

“Gods,” Arya moaned. “Do that again.”

She felt Gendry smile against her as he hummed and now she was calling out his name like a prayer. He looked up at her, smirking when she whined at the loss of contact, the loss of his tongue up against her. Quickly, his thumb took its place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on her clit, sliding down to tease her opening, then back up. Over and over again.

“You like that, don’t you?” Gendry smirked and Arya swore he’d never sounded so filthy in all his life. She’d been wrong before. He wasn’t going to be so gentle with her, after all. Once he’d gotten her permission, once he’d known it was alright, he would be the one in charge. It was an interesting change for her, she was so used to him following her lead. Arya Stark was not one to submit easily, she was the alpha. But with Gendry looking at her as he was, touching her as he was, whispering things that would make her old Septa faint, she couldn’t quite seem to mind letting him take control.

“Tell me,” he practically growled.

Arya was biting her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood, all she could do was nod.

He pressed his thumb into her a little harder, making her release her bottom lip from her teeth in a long, low moan. “Tell me, Arya. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Gendry,” she moaned so loudly she was sure anybody within a hundred leagues had been woken. “Gods, yes.”

He smirked again, but it didn’t last long. His mouth was back on her and one of his fingers was slipping into her. She wiggled her hips at the new sensation, his fingers were so long and rough compared to her own. He took that as a sign to keep going, his mouth worked harder and faster on her clit, his fingers- for he’d slipped another inside of her- were curled and moving rapidly in and out of her. Something about the sound of his fingers moving in and out of her so quickly and the way he sucked on her clit pushed Arya over the edge. She barely had time to moan an _‘oh’_ sound before she was seeing white behind the lids of her eyes and her entire body wracked with waves of pleasure.

His mouth was still on her as she came down from her high and he licked one last stripe over her before pulling himself up and bringing himself face to face with her.

She brought one hand up to cup his cheek and whispered. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he replied nuzzling his face further into her hand. His eyes were impossibly soft as he looked at her and she knew that whatever came next would be different. He would be gentle and caring and she would never feel anything but safe with him. She never had felt anything but safe with him, even at Harrenhall, even in the woods of the Riverlands. Gendry had always made her feel safe.

She leaned up to kiss him softly, pouring all of her feelings into it. She hoped he could feel how much she was putting into this one kiss. The knowledge that the unfamiliar taste on his tongue was the taste of her sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She pulled away slowly, keeping her eyes closed for a moment even after his lips were no longer against her own. “I want you, Gendry.”

His eyes flashed with emotion above her, but his earlier confidence had all but disappeared. Suddenly, he reminded her very much of the stupid boy who had bowed his head to her in the woods near the God’s Eye as he called her _m’lady_. “Arya, I can’t. I’ll ruin you.”

She grabbed at his shoulders and pushed him over, catching him off guard and reversing their positions. She held back her laughter as he grunted and stared up at her, nearly shocked that she was able to overpower him.

She brought her hand back up to his cheek and rubbed her thumb softly along the highs of his cheekbone. How could he not see it? His eyes fluttered shut at the touch and Arya placed a feather-light kiss to each of his eyelids. Then to his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, and finally his lips. “You’re mine Gendry, don’t you see. You’re mine,” she spoke in between kisses. “My stupid, stupid, stupid boy.”

She could tell he was not convinced, but she continued on with her kisses. “My stupid, bullheaded boy. My best friend. Mine. Don’t you see? Nothing you do to me could ever ruin me, my stupid, stupid boy.”

Finally, his eyes opened and he looked at her with something so raw and real that she felt a sob forming in the back of her throat. His hand came up to grip her wrist, not tightly but reassuringly, as if he needed to be sure she was really there. His voice sounded thick and raspy when he spoke like he was holding back a sob of his own. “And you’re mine?”

It sounded more like a question than a statement, and the vulnerability in his eyes and uncertainty in his voice nearly broke Arya’s heart. She kissed him again, hard. It was teeth and tongue and lips smashing together, but it was also to reassure him that she was real and she was his. “I am yours, Gendry. Always.”

“Mine,” he whispered against her lips. “Mine.”

He surged up against her lips and she grabbed his cock, positioning him at her entrance.

He pulled back and looked at her, opening his mouth to ask a question she already knew the answer to. “You’re mine. I’m yours,” she said, her voice full of conviction, and then she sank down onto him.

The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, but it was an adjustment. She was still for a long moment, taking in the look on Gendry’s face. His eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth hung open slightly in pleasure. Arya leaned forward to kiss his open mouth and rolled her hips experimentally, enjoying the feeling of him moaning against her mouth.

She found an angle that was comfortable and began to move her hips more as she found a rhythm as well. Soon, there was no discomfort for her, only warm pleasure as she bounced lightly atop Gendry, his hips meeting her own thrust for thrust.

His fingers were digging into her waist as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on her breasts, never lingering in one spot. She grabbed a hand from her waist and pulled it between them to the spot just above where he was thrusting into her, pressing his fingers against her clit just as his mouth found her nipple. She let out a loud, long moan at all the sensation. “G-Gendry.”

She could feel it now, the pulling sensation in her stomach, the same one she’d had earlier, that meant all the pressure that had been building from his touch would soon find its release. Her movements became fast and frantic as she chased the absolute ecstasy she had felt when he’d had his mouth on her earlier. He was grunting in her ear, something she would have thought would annoy her but she had now found it to make her entire body flush with heat.

“Arya, _love_ ,” he mumbled into her ear, and _gods_ the way he called her love as he moved inside of her made her whole body shiver with pleasure. “Love, please, let go.”

He moved his finger roughly against her clit one final time, and that was all it took. She collapsed against him as the absolute bliss washed over her once more. She was vaguely aware of the sound of her own voice moaning his name, and the way he was still thrusting inside of her, but her eyes and ears were closed to nearly everything except the feelings of boundless pleasure coursing through her veins. Making her body hum.

After a few moments, the intensity subsided and she was able to open her eyes to look at Gendry. His face was contorted with pleasure, his mouth open and his eyes screwed shut. His movements were getting sloppy and he blindly grabbed for her hips and lifted her off of him, taking himself in his hand and stroking himself once, twice, three times. He spilled his seed onto his stomach and chest, and Arya marveled at the way a few drops found their way into the hair there. She leaned forward to kiss him and pressed her body tightly against his.

After some time, she pulled away from him and climbed out of the bed to retrieve her spare tunic from her travel bag. She used it to wipe his seed from her stomach and chest and then did the same for him before throwing it somewhere behind her, she’d clean it in the morning. For now, she wanted only to have him hold her tightly against him, to fall asleep wrapped in his arms. 

He pulled her close to him, falling back into their usual sleeping position with such familiarity it made her smile. Now though, his hand was trailing lightly up and down her naked back, and her bare chest was pressed up against him. He’d had his head between her legs not an hour earlier, but somehow this felt entirely more intimate and suddenly she felt vulnerable. But this was Gendry and she knew she would always be safe with him- in his arms. She smiled to herself as she traced her fingers across his chest. She knew he didn’t know his letters, but she foolishly hoped he’d be able to feel the pattern she was tracing there over and over. _M-I-N-E. M-I-N-E. M-I-N-E._

**Author's Note:**

> i am currently writing two (2) slow-burns, but my filthy mind keeps coming up w sm smut that i NEED to write, so these porno oneshots are the only things keeping the plots on both my wips intact. that being said, expect more in the future. this started off as something i thought up for my aladdin au, but i'm still not sure if i'm putting smut in there yet and i am nowhere near where this would fit into that fic anyways, so i decided to try writing it separately and then it kind of took on a life of its own and i loved the idea of this happening in the (sort-of) canon asoiaf/got universe too much to change it to fit say we're only dreaming! pls enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> ps. gendry having wet dreams solely about going down on arya? yessir, we know our mans would.


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